


For Lonely Men to Bear

by Mara



Category: Keitai Sousakan 7 | K-tai Investigator 7
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 05:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8476480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mara/pseuds/Mara
Summary: Keita has grown up rather more than Kirihara expected since Under Anchor was dissolved.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I really should be writing my Yuletide fic. Or three other fics. But here we are.
> 
> Note: Keita is over 18 in this fic, but Kirihara has to be at least 10 years older. YMMV on whether this bothers you, but now you know.

Kirihara didn't know why he kept meeting with the rest of the Under Anchor team after their Phone Bravers were gone. It wasn't like he _needed_ them or anything. He was absolutely fine.

Just because they were the only people he could talk to about Third, it didn't mean he _had_ to see them.

Which didn't explain why he found himself once _again_ at the yakiniku restaurant around the corner from Anchor, with Tōko hogging all the best bits on his left and the brat on his right.

Grudgingly, Kirihara glanced at the kid and had to admit he really wasn't much of a brat these days. Two years had gone by and he'd hit some kind of growth spurt. He wasn't tall, but the baby fat was gone and he'd turned into a lean young man.

Keita caught him looking and raised his eyebrows. "Hmm?"

"Nothing," Kirihara said, turning back to the food. From beside him, he could hear a huff of annoyance from the kid, which he ignored as he tried to avoid being stabbed in the eye by Tōko's flailing chopsticks.

"You've gotten cold," Keita said.

Kirihara felt his lip twitch, but he suppressed any other reaction ruthlessly, watching Chigusa steal a bit of pork belly from Tōko.

"I thought…I thought after, when we all met at Under Anchor, that maybe you felt the same way about Third as I did about Seven. I thought we'd, y'know, connected."

Kirihara very deliberately took a drink of his beer.

"Why do you even come to these?" Keita sounded genuinely curious. 

"The chief invites me."

Keita snorted out a laugh. 

Kirihara sighed. He supposed the kid deserved better than that. "It's good to see other people who knew Third."

"Third was special. All the Phone Bravers were."

Nodding sharply, Kirihara kept his eyes on his plate. "I miss Third all the time." He took another gulp of beer to stop anything else personal from slipping out.

"I know exactly what you mean," Keita said, so softly Kirihara wasn't sure he was even supposed to have heard it.

At that point, Goinkyo called out to Keita from the other end of the table and then everyone was tossing ideas back and forth for the design of the new robot.

* * *

Dinner was the usual raucous event and Kirihara was slightly sorry he'd come by the time everyone staggered out. He helped various folk into taxis and put his hands in his pockets as he turned toward his car, parked a block away on the mostly empty street.

He couldn't help raising an eyebrow when he saw Keita leaning against the passenger side door, watching him. They weren't quite under a streetlight, so it was difficult to read his expression.

Kirihara tossed his keys up and down. "Need a ride?"

"Only if we're going to your place."

"Parents kick you out?" If he had an iota of sense, the kid would've gone to…well, anyone other than him.

"No." 

Kirihara frowned. "Then get outta here and spend time with...don't you have a girlfriend by now? Or a boyfriend?"

Keita snorted. "Yeah, right."

Kirihara frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, so _you've_ found a partner who matches up to Third?"

"Of course not!" Kirihara snapped automatically. Then he stared at Keita as he realized what he'd said.

Keita smiled, although it wasn't filled with much amusement. "That's what I figured. Same here. Everyone is so…wrong. They just roll along in their lives and have no idea."

"No idea what we lost to save them."

Keita swallowed sharply. "Yeah."

They were silent for a long moment, Keita leaning back against the car and gazing up as the wind ruffled his hair. Kirihara looked at him again, realizing the brat really had grown up. "It'll get better," he said, trying to sound confident.

"Will it?" Keita tilted his head back down to look at him. "It's been two years."

"That's not a lot of time." He didn't even sound convincing to himself.

"I accepted that he's dead," Keita said. "And I've moved on. But…there's still a hole."

Kirihara couldn't help putting a hand to his chest, knowing exactly what the kid was talking about. It's not that he was unhappy. He enjoyed his work and went out drinking with coworkers and occasionally brought someone home to fuck. But there was still a space that hadn't been filled since Third died.

"The reason you come to these dinners is because we're the only people in the world who have that exact same hole."

Kirihara didn't respond.

Standing up straighter, Keita looked at him, face stern. When he'd first started at Under Anchor, that expression had looked hilarious on him, like a puppy trying to threaten a wolf. It wasn't the same now. "It took a while, but I think I figured out what I want."

"Oh?"

"I want you."

Choking, Kirihara stared. " _What?_ "

Not looking quite as confident with his face slowly reddening, Keita went on. "There are only a few people who will ever understand you. I'm one of them."

"That's the weirdest thing anyone has ever said to me. And you know what I did for a living. Look, whatever's going on, just go home."

Keita just shook his head slowly.

"Whatever." Kirihara started toward the driver's side, but as he passed by, Keita grabbed his arm and yanked. Automatically, Kirihara responded by twisting out of his grip and catching him in a secure hold with his face against the car.

One side of Keita's mouth twitched up and he didn't struggle at all.

Kirihara froze, taking a long shuddering breath as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. And then he flipped Keita around, so his back was to the car, and kissed him.

He couldn't help wondering what the hell he was doing, even as he clutched Keita's shoulders. Gods, this was still a kid, most of his brain was screaming. But Kirihara didn't want to let go. He hadn't known he wanted this, but now he did. He wanted someone who would understand why he could never give his entire heart to anyone.

Keita's lack of experience was clear, but his need was equally clear. Kirihara stepped forward so Keita was fully smashed against the car. Using his body to hold Keita up, he got one hand in his hair, cushioning the back of his head, and the other, car keys still in hand, resting on his chest.

They spent a long time like that, kissing fiercely, almost painfully. Kirihara could feel Keita hard against him and it felt better than he expected. Hell, it was the most turned on he'd been in a long time. This whole thing was a terrible idea and he didn't care a bit.

Keita moaned into his mouth and Kirihara could feel it through both of their bodies, like a thrum of energy. He finally brought himself to let Keita breathe, only to attack the younger man's neck, reveling in the way Keita writhed against him.

He was interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the sidewalk and Keita jumped. Kirihara stopped trying to give him hickeys, but refused to release his body, resting their foreheads together while they tried to catch their breath.

Keita let out a small frustrated whimper when Kirihara rocked gently against him and Kirihara felt a smile creep across his face. It was a weird feeling and he tried to remember when he had last smiled.

Public sex was probably an even worse idea than having sex with a kid who hadn't quite graduated senior high. Kirihara took another breath. This was decision time. If he stepped back now, they might possibly be able to look each other in the eye at some point in the future. If he took the kid home with him, he was committing to…something. Hell if he knew what.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with you?" Kirihara said, mostly to himself.

Keita's eyes were very wide in the edges of the streetlight as he whispered back. "Whatever you want."

"Fuck." Kirihara sucked in a breath. "Don't. That's…"

"That's what?"

"Dangerous."

Keita shook his head. "You won't hurt me."

Scowling, Kirihara took the step back he'd been unable to make before, forcing his hands to let go. "You have no idea what I'm capable of."

Keita held his gaze, looking a hell of a lot more grownup than before. "I'm probably one of five or six people in the world who _does_ have an idea, remember?"

Head swinging back and forth in denial, Kirihara took another step back, but Keita followed him, holding his gaze as Kirihara nearly tripped over a bump in the sidewalk.

Forcing himself to stand his ground, Kirihara crossed his arms to fend off the young man stepping into his personal space. 

Irritatingly, Keita didn't look intimidated at all as he stepped so close that his chest bumped Kirihara's arms. Damn it, when had the kid gotten to be almost as tall as him? He hadn't noticed it before, when Keita was leaning against the car, but...

Keita examined his expression carefully and Kirihara was grateful for his years of practice with a blank face. "Go home, kid," he said. "That was fun, but the game is over."

And then Keita was giving him an odd look and his hand was moving and he…had Kirihara's gods-be-damned car keys in his hand. Jumping backward, he unlocked the door and jumped into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him. 

"…the fuck?" Kirihara asked the universe.

Keita just looked through the window, dangling the keys in his hand. It was a clear challenge and damned if Kirihara didn't want to answer it. He wanted to take Amishima Keita home and screw him senseless and argue with him about his optimism about the network and humanity. 

He wanted someone who would understand why he sometimes sat in the dark and drank until he fell asleep.

He wanted someone who would understand his nightmares and why he sometimes screamed in the middle of the night.

Swallowing his trepidation, Kirihara stepped around to the driver's side and slid in. Not looking at Keita, he held out his hand. When the keys dropped in, he started the car and put on his seatbelt. Keita was bright enough not to say anything as Kirihara pulled out onto the empty street.

They were silent, except when Kirihara made a turn that clearly took them toward his home and away from the Amishima's. Keita let out a small relieved breath and Kirihara glanced at him before looking back at the road.

This was a terrible idea. But now that Keita was his, he'd be damned if he let go again. Once was bad enough.

\--end--


End file.
